


Knocking On Heaven's Door

by measure_for_measure



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Road Trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-20 14:10:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17623874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/measure_for_measure/pseuds/measure_for_measure
Summary: Struggling with your feelings for Dean, you bury yourself in books. He decides to figure out what's wrong, and takes matters into his own hands.





	1. Drive

You settled into the back seat of the Impala with a sigh. Pulling a worn and dog-eared copy of Lord Byron’s poetry out of your backpack, you slouched down even further and began to read. 

‘‘Tis time this heart should be unmoved,   
Since others it has ceased to move:  
Yet though I cannot be beloved,  
Still let me love!’

“Good book?” Dean opened the driver’s side door and climbed inside, digging in his coat pocket for the car keys. 

“Yeah,” you didn’t look up from the page. 

‘My days are in the yellow leaf;  
The flowers and fruits of Love are gone;  
The worm--the canker, and the grief  
Are mine alone!’

The Impala rumbled to life, and Dean pushed one of his bootleg Led Zeppelin tapes into the player. Trying to ignore the music so you could focus on reading, it took a moment for you to register that Dean was trying to talk to you. 

“Huh?” You stuck a finger between the pages. 

“Well, space cadet, I was saying how much nicer it is without Sammy here to complain about the music.”

“Oh, yeah,” you re-opened the book. 

‘The fire that on my bosom preys  
Is lone as some Volcanic Isle;  
No torch is kindled at its blaze  
A funeral pile!’

You were pressed back against the seat as the Impala accelerated to highway speed. “Hey Dean?” 

“Yuh-huh?”

“Where are we headed?” 

“Just the next state over. Thought we’d take a break from hunting for a while.”

You frowned, “What?” 

He just laughed, fingers drumming on the steering wheel in time to the music. 

‘Whatever.’ You rolled your eyes. 

'The hope, the fear, the jealous care,  
The exalted portion of the pain  
And power of Love I cannot share,  
But wear the chain.'

At some point while reading you drifted off, your exhaustion even stronger than your love of poetry. When you awoke, it was because Dean had stopped to refuel the car. Yawning, you stretched and rubbed your eyes. You straightened up in your seat, resting your chin on your hand, and watched him clean the windshield. “Man, Lord Byron and I really have a thing going on…” You muttered, “Yet though I cannot be beloved...” With that statement, you slouched down and went back to sleep. 

“Hey, wake up,” someone was shaking your shoulder, “We’re here.” 

“We what?” You slurred, awakening for the second time. “Woah, it’s dark out.” You squinted at the lack of light coming in through the car window. 

“Yeah, no kiddin’,” Dean laughed, “You slept the whole drive.” 

“Woops.” Fumbling for your book, you tucked it safely back in your bag. “Are we there yet?”

He raised his eyebrows, “No, I just woke you up for the kick of it.”

“Whatever, smartass, where are we?” 

“Can’t tell you that, it would ruin the surprise,” Dean swung the car door open and got out, stretching with a loud grunt. “Come on out, doll.” He winked at you, face illuminated by a flickering streetlight. 

Your heart fluttered a little at his words, but you didn’t let it show. “Alright, alright, I’m coming,” you clambered out and immediately groaned, “Ooh, my legs are stiff. Actually, all of me is stiff. Ugh.” Ignoring the amused look that he threw in your direction, you placed your hands on your hips and looked around. “Oh my God, Dean!”


	2. Words & Deeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean takes you somewhere, and you find revelations in the sunset.

“You weren’t kidding when you said we were going to take a break from hunting…” Leaning against the Impala, you were engrossed by the view before you. Dean was standing beside the edge of a high cliff that dropped off into the evening haze; a single streetlamp dimly illuminating the overlook. Far below, a meandering river was painted a sharp silver by the rays of dying sunlight. On either side were luscious looking floodplains bordered by pine forests. Scattered within those were small meadows and clearings that appeared as only miniscule light green patches from where you were standing. “It’s beautiful, Dean.” Your voice was quiet, like the crisp mountain air that surrounded you. It felt pure, and peaceful. “Thank you.” 

He moved to stand beside you, looking down at your face. “Hey, you’ve seemed really out of it lately, and I was starting to worry.”

Startled, you returned his gaze. “What, why?” 

“I don’t know, you just,” He paused, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck, “Seemed off.” 

You nodded, “Yeah.” There was silence again, the sun dipping further behind the distant hills. “Are we going to stay here tonight?” 

“Sure, if you want.” Dean shrugged, “There’s sleeping bags in the trunk.” 

You smiled, and out of the corner of your eye you saw that a matching one was on his lips. 

“That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile all day.” 

You looked down, and scuffed the gravel with your boot. “I’ve just been thinking about stuff I guess.” 

“I don’t wanna pry, but do you wanna talk about it?” 

Shaking your head, you let your hair slide down over your face. “Nah, I’m good.” 

He nodded, “Fair enough.” Moving closer, he slid an arm up and around your shoulders. “It’ll be okay.” 

You froze, drawing in a quick breath. 

“Hey, you good?” He turned you around to face him, tilting your chin up with one hand. 

A light blush dusted your cheeks, “Oh, I - ” His hands were warm through the thin sleeves of your shirt. You bit your lip nervously.

He raised his eyebrows, a knowing smirk spreading across his lips. “This what’s been bothering you?” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to calm the anxiety that had begun to well up within you. “Yes,” you said tersely. Perhaps it was better to just get it over with. 

He didn’t respond, and you felt your heart sink, then crack. Your hands were cold, fists clenching on empty air. 

You felt something close to your face, and then there were lips on yours. Your eyes flew open, but Dean’s were closed, dark lashes fanned out on his skin. One of his hands reached up to cup your cheek, and you let your eyes fall shut, pressing closer to him. It all felt unreal, like a dream. 

When you finally parted, his arms were around your waist, holding you close. He smelled like the Impala, and wind, and something else that you couldn’t quite place. Then he spoke,  
“I lov’d her, friar! Nay, adored--  
But these are words that all can use--  
I prov’d it more in deed than word.” 

“Dean?” A breeze danced through your hair.

“You left your book in the motel room and I was bored,” he explained, pushing a strand of hair out of your face, “Don’t ruin the moment.” 

“Right, sorry,” you laughed, and you had never felt more happy. Resting your head against his chest, you clutched the fabric of his shirt in your hands. “I can’t believe this is real.”

“Well you better start, babe,” You could feel his voice rumbling in his chest, and could hear his heart beating. He ran his fingers through your hair, gently. 

The last ruddy sliver of the sun dove out of sight, and the purpling sky hung above. Moths began to gather around the streetlamp, and one by one the first stars began to prick the night. The low sound of the river was the only noise besides your breathing and Dean’s heartbeat. 

If only it could stay this way forever…

**Author's Note:**

> Poems Used: “The Giaour” & “On This Day I Complete My Thirty-Sixth Year” by Lord Byron.


End file.
